


sneaking out

by curiositykilled



Series: tumblr prompts [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Stargazing, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 14:55:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12509952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curiositykilled/pseuds/curiositykilled
Summary: Shiro is delighted to be Matt’s Best Man - no, really. Sure, he can’t possibly fathom how his best friend wound up with a woman like Allura, and yeah, maybe he’s a little bitter at the scratched out “plus one” on his RSVP, but really, he’s delighted. Thrilled. Ecstatic.





	sneaking out

                  Shiro is delighted to be Matt’s Best Man - no, really. Sure, he can’t possibly fathom how his best friend wound up with a woman like Allura, and yeah, maybe he’s a little bitter at the scratched out “plus one” on his RSVP, but really, he’s delighted. Thrilled. Ecstatic.

                  He groans and takes another drink. Water, of course, because he’s driving the newlyweds to the airport after this. He can’t help eyeing the champagne that glides past on a server’s flat palm, but he’s reasonably sure that wouldn’t help too much even if it was an option. There are two sides to Drunk Shiro, but only one comes out when he’s already feeling blue. Suffice to say, it’s not the fun side.

                  Matt and Allura are still on the dance floor, though it’s hard to call what they’re doing ‘dancing,’ really. Allura’s leading, Matt’s hand cradled gently in hers, but they’re barely doing more than swaying as they smile at each other. From this distance, Shiro can’t pick up what they’re saying, but the aching fondness with which they look at each other is unmistakable. It makes something warm unfurl behind Shiro’s ribs, that two of his best friends are so utterly happy with each other, but it doesn’t do much to dislodge his own despondency.

                  “Anyone sitting here?”

                  Shiro glances up, lips already curving in a polite smile. The newcomer is striking - dark hair starting to fall out of its coif, high cheekbones stark against the dark of the room. The low light glitters over his face, violet catching in his eyes.

                  “Nah, feel free,” Shiro says, even though he’d kind of prefer the solitude.

                  He’s not really looking to hook up here - not at his best friend’s wedding reception, and not so soon after an ugly breakup. Otherwise, the sharp angles and trim figure of this newcomer might be enticing. For now, it’s just another nail in his mood’s coffin.

                  The man settles into the seat next to Shiro, heedless, and pushes his chair back. For a few minutes, the silence between them is filled only with the music from the DJ. It’s a slow song, one Shiro doesn’t recognize, and most the couples on the floor are curled around each other with the kind of intimacy that comes from long relationships. His heart gives a little pang at the thought.

                  He and Ulaz should be out there, too. He can still imagine how his ex’s hands felt in his own, pressed to the low of his back - if he closed his eyes, it would be tantalizingly easy to pretend those phantom hands were real.

                  “I’m Keith,” the newcomer says abruptly, breaking into Shiro’s downward spiral.

                  He’s extended a hand, and Shiro blinks at it once before reaching back and shaking it.

                  “Shiro,” he replies.

                  “I know,” Keith says.

                  When Shiro raises an eyebrow, Keith shrugs and nods to where Matt and Allura sway in the blue lights.

                  “You’re the best man,” he says.

                  Shiro frowns at that. His name is listed in the wedding program, of course - as Takashi Shirogane. When Keith looks up and catches Shiro’s frown, he immediately looks away. There’s a dusting of pink over his cheeks, as if he’s blushing.

                  “I’m in the Garrison,” he explains. “You’re…pretty well known.”

                  Shiro nearly chokes on that understatement and then fights back a groan. One of the youngest fleet pilots in Garrison history and the first pilot to lead a mission to Pluto’s far moon Kerberos, he’s become resigned to his name being passed around in certain circles like a well worn baseball card. He really isn’t in the mood for a cadet’s hero worship, though. On the best days, it itches along his nerves with discomfort. Today isn’t his best day.

                  “I’m sorry,” he says politely, “I’m really just here as Matt’s friend – not as a captain or anything.”

                  It’s the most diplomatic way he can think to say it – to beg for a reprieve from his public life for a night. He’ll be the Garrison’s poster boy again bright and early Monday morning, but right now? He just wants to be Matt’s friend.

                  “Oh,” Keith says.

                  His eyes widen a little and there’s a pause before he closes his mouth and frowns down at the tablecloth. His one hand’s tensed, thumbtip rubbing the knuckle of his index finger. Guilt creeps up Shiro’s spine, and he’s about to relent when Keith speaks.

                  “I didn’t – I wasn’t coming here for an autograph or something,” he says. “Pidge told me to go talk to somebody. I’m…not big about crowds, and you looked about as miserable as I feel.”

                  The honesty startles Shiro enough that he stares at Keith for a moment. Keith looks away, jaw clenching and regret furrowing his brow. It’s enough to prompt Shiro to act. He laughs.

                  “Alright,” he says. “I didn’t realize I was that obvious.”

                  Keith turns back to him, then, cautious hope on his face. At Shiro’s reply, the nervousness vanishes from his expression and he grins. It’s small, just baring the tips of his top teeth.

                  “You kinda look like you’re pining after Matt – or Allura. Or both?” Keith replies.

                  Shiro snorts, looking back out at the dance floor. He’s not entirely surprised to hear that, but he can’t help a mental wince at the rumors it might cause. Fortunately, most the people here know him well enough to not think twice (probably), but, as Keith demonstrates, there are definitely enough to get the wrong idea. He sighs.

                  “Iverson will love that,” he mutters. He shakes his head. “I’m definitely not in love with either of them. Just didn’t expect to be alone tonight.”

                  He winces as he says it, hating how pathetic it sounds. He doesn’t mean to petulant, and he definitely doesn’t feel like opening up to a complete stranger, but Keith only nods. When he turns back to Shiro, there’s a little frown on his face and Shiro braces himself for unwanted questions.

                  “I know a way to the roof,” he says, “if you want to get some air.”

                  Shiro pauses, catching himself before a polite rejection can escape. Why not? It’ll be another few hours till the reception winds down, and Matt’s not going to miss him now. No one is going to miss him. He shrugs.

                  “Sure.”

                  Keith’s lips quirk up, just a little, in a small smile. He stands and Shiro follows as they make their way across the crowded ballroom. They keep near the wall and pass by mostly unnoticed. The door closes with a click behind them, suddenly muting the noise of the music and conversation behind them. Relief rushes out of Shiro with the sudden quiet, releasing tension he hadn’t realized had built up in his shoulders. 

                  Keith walks with a surety that Shiro can’t quite match, headed with singleminded focus down back hallways and once through a room Shiro’s pretty sure isn’t meant to be entered. There’s an official-looking desk and chair surrounded by file cabinets and bookshelves that suggest it belongs to Coran, the caretaker of the Altean estate.

                  Keith doesn’t even hesitate before opening a narrow door and heading up into the darkness. Shiro pauses, eyeing the doorway and dark stairs beyond uncertainly before he sighs and squeezes after Keith. These stairs seem like the remnants of a feudal past – servants’ stairs or something of the sort – and Shiro has to angle his shoulders to fit between the tight stone walls. He’s about ready to admit defeat and return to the party when Keith stops and he hears the sound of a door knob twisting.

                  Cool air rushes in, and Shiro follows Keith out the door to find them surrounded by the night.

                  “Oh,” he breathes out, tilting his head up. “Oh, wow.”

                  “Pretty cool, huh?” Keith says.

                  Shiro’s lips quirk upwards at the comment. Understatements seem to be Keith’s modus operandi. The sky unfolds before them in a dazzling display. As Shiro’s eyes adjust to the darkness, more and more stars reveal themselves as faint specks in the indigo sky. From this high on the estate’s walls, the land sprawls around them like a map unrolled just for their eyes. The moon and stars provide faint illumination, subtle highlights on the crests of the hills and tips of trees. It’s unearthly in its beauty, like a dreamscape opened up for only their eyes.

                  “Yeah,” he agrees, “pretty cool.”

                  Keith leans back against one of the parapets, and Shiro joins him. The night wind bites at his cheeks, a breath of winter on his skin. He can’t pull his eyes from the constellations above him, but then, he doesn’t really try. With the warmth of Keith’s arm pressed to his and the infinity of space unfurled overhead, he has no desire to move.  

                  They wind up sitting against the parapet, sides pressed together, and pointing out different constellations. The stories of the stars give way to their own, and by the time Shiro has to leave to drive Matt and Allura to the airport, the warmth from Keith’s arm has spread through his chest to soothe that hollow ache from earlier. 

                  Matt and Allura settle in the back of Shiro’s car in a contented heap, Allura half-asleep on Matt’s shoulder, and Shiro can’t help smiling as he looks in the rearview mirror. Their hands are entwined in Allura’s lap, and happiness surrounds them like an aura. There’s no jealous twinge in his chest, this time, as he looks away to drive down the silent street. Instead, there’s a new number in his phone and with it, a tentative hope.


End file.
